Page 57 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
Holly gave her a gentle smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Cassandra’s ear. "Och, lass, ye can grieve what ye lost, but ye must also see what ye’ve gained. Ye opened yer heart again—do ye ken how remarkable that is? After yer betrothed betrayed ye I thought ye had sworn off men forever. Now ye have healed from that."
Cassandra let out a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I was a fool. I let meself believe in somethin’ that was never mine to have."
Holly scoffed and folded her arms. "Daenae be daft. Love is never foolish. If ye had kept yer heart locked away, ye’d never have known what it meant to feel this deeply again."
Cassandra frowned, her hands twisting in her lap. "But what good is feelin’ deeply if it only brings pain?"
Holly reached out, taking Cassandra’s hands in hers. "Because pain means ye lived, lass. It means ye’ve healed from the past that once held ye prisoner. And now, instead of hidin’, ye can walk forward with an open heart."
Cassandra blinked at her, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "I daenae feel healed. I feel broken."
Holly gave her a reassuring squeeze. "That’s because ye’re still in the thick of it. But in time, ye’ll see—this isnae the end of yer story, Cassandra. It’s only the beginnin’."
Cassandra let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping. "I wish I had yer certainty, Holly. Right now, all I feel is loss."
Holly gave a knowing smile. "Aye, but in time, ye’ll feel somethin’ else, too—hope. And when that day comes, ye’ll be ready for whatever comes next."
Cassandra swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Maybe ye’re right. Maybe one day, this pain will pass."
Holly grinned and nudged her playfully. "Aye, and when it does, ye’ll look back on this moment and see just how strong ye really were."
For the first time in days, Cassandra felt the tiniest spark of something that wasn’t sorrow. Perhaps, just perhaps, Holly was right.
Cassandra sat at her wooden worktable, grinding dried herbs into a fine powder. Every time she tried to focus, memories of Hunter came rushing back—his touch, his kiss, the way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to concentrate on her work.
She reached for a vial of oil, carefully measuring out drops into the mixture. Her hands moved with practiced ease, but her thoughts betrayed her. She saw Hunter in her mind, the warmth of his lips against hers, the strength of his arms around her.
Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, "Enough of this foolishness, Cassandra. Ye have work to do."
She grabbed a mortar and pestle, grinding the herbs with renewed force. She told herself she was being daft—Hunter had let her leave without protest. If he had truly cared, he would have stopped her, would have said something, anything, to make her stay. But he had remained silent, and that silence spoke louder than any words ever could.
Her heart ached as she poured the crushed herbs into a small pouch, tying it closed with a piece of twine.
"If he wanted me, he would’ve said so," she whispered to herself. The realization stung, but she forced herself to accept it. Hunter had made his choice, and now she had to live with it.
She straightened her back and forced a deep breath into her lungs. There were people in need of her medicines, and she would not allow herself to fall apart over a man who had not fought for her. She was Cassandra McAllister, a healer, a woman of strength, not some lovesick lass waiting for a man to save her. She had survived worse, and she would survive this.
But even as she worked, mixing salves and measuring tinctures, the truth lingered in the back of her mind. No matter how much she willed herself to forget, Hunter McDougal had left a mark on her heart that she could not erase.
I love him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"Tis a good way to divide the grazin’ lands," Hunter said.
Hunter sat at the long wooden table, a map of the surrounding territories spread before him. Daniel leaned against the table’s edge, arms crossed, as they discussed border disputes and patrol routes.
"Aye, the farmers will be given allotments every month. That should satisfy them, for now."
The conversation was routine, but Hunter found his mind drifting. He had little patience for his duties when something far heavier weighed on his heart.
A deep, resonant toll rang through the castle keep, cutting through their conversation like a blade. Both men snapped their heads up, recognizing the alarm. Hunter pushed back his chair and strode to the window, Daniel close behind. Below, in thecourtyard, the guards moved swiftly as the portcullis began to rise.
Daniel narrowed his eyes as he peered down. "Who is it?"
Hunter gritted his teeth, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Lady Margaret’s faither. Michael."
Daniel let out a slow breath. "This cannae be good."
